Gasps and Nibbles
by Zabby
Summary: A series of random glimpses into the relationship of Gibbs and Abby. Fluff, humor, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, friendship. Gibbs/Abby.
1. Slam

**Title:** Slam

**Pairing:** Gibbs/Abby

**Rating:** PG

**Genre:** Het

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** It only takes a slam to bring her back in focus.

**Author's note:** To try and inspire my muse (since it's been forever since I've written anything solo), I've started to participate in a Drabble Game. Prompt is 'million' given to me by the lovely Chirugal.

_Can't do this. Can't concentrate._

_How can I be expected to make any sense of...well, anything when no one was giving me time to do my job? _

_A million different people, pulling in a million different directions, wanting a million different answers to questions only I can figure out._

_Which result, which evidence to process first? Which baby calling do I answer?_

_My mind is racing…not racing, screaming and tearing. I can't stop and breathe. I can't breathe. Which one do I choose?_

"What do you got for me, Abbs?"

_And everything slams into focus. Freight train against a wall, and I know what to do. I can breathe now._

_How does he do that? How does he come in and – with a question and a smile and a Caf-Pow – gets me to focus on what's important? The chaos of my world slams into a single stream and I can concentrate. I can do this._

_I smile as I turn to greet him, ignoring the smirk and knowing look in his eyes._


	2. Silliness

_Silliness is a state of grace – Eric Myers (via Mike Myers)_

There were moments – rare, beautiful, heartbreaking moments – where she could see the person he was before tragedy ripped apart his heart and stole his trust. But in those few moments, where he would smile and duck his head, pull on her pigtails, or even roll his eyes at her, her own heart would soar and peace would steal through her. And she hoped that – for a moment – he would find some peace too.

So, she would smile and laugh, play around with him when the moment was right, tease him when she could, just to see him smile and duck his head at her silliness.


	3. Demands

"Why do you always try to rush precision, Gibbs?" she cries as she paces the confines of her lab. "My babies can only work so fast. I can only work so fast. But you always come in here, making impossible demands, pushing me to rush results. I can't rush everything, Gibbs. What if I make a mistake?"

As I watch her frantic movements, I can only smirk. Because, despite my impossible demands, she always meets the deadlines I give her. Well, almost always. Right now, I'm having to listen to a lecture on quality verses quantity.

I know the stress she's under; hell, we're all under it. This time, my gut is screaming at me that Abby's the one who will find the break in the case; I know the answer is with the evidence and what information my girl can pull out from it.

And she is my girl. Always has been. Always will be.

"Abbs," I call out, trying to get her attention. Doesn't work, so I try to yell instead. "Abby!"

She stops midstride, almost stumbling in another pair of ridiculous boots. "What?" she demands.

Holding out the offering of Caf-Pow!, I gesture to one of her machines that has popped up with a match. "You've got something."

She grabs the over-caffeinated drink and turns in shock. "How do you do that, Gibbs? How do you get my babies to respond to your demands? They don't listen to me like that. What's your secret?"

Distracted by what her computer screen is showing her, she keeps talking, almost unaware of what she's saying. "I bet you're like that with everything, aren't you? You just demand or order and everything just falls into line for you. Wonder what else responds to you like that…" she fades off, almost to herself as she reads the test results.

At the allusion in her words, I feel my body tense, uncomfortable in the suit I'm forced into for work. I shift, trying to ease the pressure in my groin, but any hope of relief is destroyed as visions of how exactly Abby would respond to orders cloud my mind.

I cough to cover my awkward state as she turns around, all smiles and feistiness. She's telling me something, something to do with the results. Only, I don't really hear what she's saying. It's enough that I can tell from her face it's exactly what I've been pushing for. Taking the results, I kiss her quickly on the cheek and head straight from the elevator, fighting the temptation to turn around.

Shaking my head to try and clear it, I can only laugh at myself. People always like to tell me that I'm going to get her in trouble one day. What they fail to realize is that I've been in trouble from the moment she careened into my life.


	4. Addiction

Addiction was a tricky thing. Sometimes it would destroy, other times it would enhance. Addiction swarms over a person, absorbing into the blood, invading the mind until it has overcome every other thought.

Abby was addicted to Caf-Pow!

Her life was so busy, so filled in every moment, that she needed the caffeine burst to sustain her lack of sleep. She tried to cut down, even stopped cold turkey once. But she always came back to her addiction, the red-colored liquid splashing over her tongue in a burst of flavor. When the rush of chemically induced adrenaline crashed through her system, she would sigh in relief and satisfaction. Nothing like it.

Gibbs was addicted to coffee.

It helped him think, kept him cool, regardless of the temperature outside. He took it plain, dark and strong; the stronger, the better. All those different coffeehouse coffees, the ones that Tony and Tim seemed to enjoy, made him spit them out. He even spit up Abby's Caf-Pow! when he accidentally took a sip. Without his morning coffee, he became a grumpy, inflexible, bastard. Just ask any of his exes. But with his morning coffee, along with the numerous refills throughout the day, he became at least bearable, even close to human. And then, his agents would sigh in relief, the grumpy bear held at bay for a little while.

She was addicted to Android Lust, Brain Matter, Skold Vs. KMFDM, and Airbourne Toxic Event.

Anything that would pulsate through her body and make her dance. She worked better with the pounding music, even if it threatened her hearing. Most people didn't enjoy her choices of music, though her friends tried, or at least pretended, to enjoy it. Except for Gibbs; he would just turn it off.

He was addicted to silence, to the smooth sound of a sander against wood.

It helped him think, helped him work out whatever's troubling him. He could spend hours in his basement, the wood forming and smoothing out beneath his bare hands, uncaring for the cuts and scrapes that came with the work. Most people couldn't stand the silence, the echoing of thoughts against the concrete walls. He didn't really like people in his refuge. They disturbed the sanctity of his personal space. Abby he didn't mind so much. She brought light and air into his world. He couldn't begrudge her if she wanted to invade.

She was addicted to his half-smiles, teasing him into a laugh, and the way he snuck up on her. It made her heart jump when he kissed her on the cheek, was her rock when she was scared, and brought her Caf-Pows! as rewards. And when he held her, his very unique scent made her addicted even more.

He was addicted to her feisty smiles, her short skirts, and the way she looked to him for strength. Despite her over-excited demeanor, he needed the peace he found when he took her in his arms. And her special perfume, a mix of gunpowder and something uniquely Abby, only made him that much more addicted.

She was addicted to him.

He was addicted to her.

And it took them awhile to realize they were addicted to each other.

"Too long," he growled, pulling her into his arms, the smell of sawdust trailing through the air to mix with the scents of them both. His hand brushed over her hair, pulling at the pigtail when he came to the end. He wanted to delay the moment they faced their addictions. Together.

But the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him was too much of a temptation to resist. He was, after all, a slave to his addiction. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, and a new addiction emerged.

He was addicted to her taste. It was warm, sweet. Not like cherries, the color her lips were painted. It was more like a peach. Her taste was searing, a peach plucked off the tree in the heat of summer, a burst of sensation on his tongue.

Again and again, he kissed her, barely giving either of them the chance to breathe. This new addiction was surging through his veins like a drug. The more his lips tasted hers, the more the need grew. And he knew it was the same for her, even as she giggled up at him in her pleasure when he managed to break away. Her green eyes were darkening to an emerald shade as her own addiction grew.

Growling his frustration, he picked her up, grunting in satisfaction as her legs wrapped around his waist. And in that moment, he knew there would be no cure for this addiction. It would only grow and overtake their lives. But he couldn't bring himself to even try to care.

After all, addiction was a tricky thing.


	5. Shiver and Quake

He comes up behind her, whispering "What'd ya got, Abbs?" in her ear. It's their signal, his signal that tonight will be different. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, Gibbs coming in to see what evidence she's found. But the heat, the whisper, the invasion of her personal space were all different and special. Tonight will not be a simple coming together, bodies shaking and quaking in completion. No, tonight he needs something else from her; her shivering surrender to his orders, his control.

With his words, his hot breath stealing over the ink on her neck, the first shiver quakes through her body, a precursor to more the evening will provide. She stops what she's doing, no longer able to concentrate, and she quickly begins to shut down her machines.

She hears his almost silent chuckle, but doesn't turn around, knowing this too was part of the game. Using the systematic shut down of the equipment as her way of calming her jumping nerves, she understands he will leave her behind in the lab, knows that he will be waiting for her in his basement. But even realizing he's expecting her, she hurries carefully to get done as quickly as possible. She knows better than to keep him waiting.

The drive to his home goes by too slowly, yet too quickly. Anticipation is killing her, and the next shiver moves through her as her car pulls into his driveway. Her head presses back against the headrest as the shiver tracks straight to her core, making her squeeze her knees together. Concentrating on the rhythm of her breathing, she seeks some stillness to her shaking body. Tonight will be about orders and shivers and waiting, and she will not be able to satisfy his needs if she enters into the house already in a heightened state.

She gets herself under control, of a sort, and heads into the house. Without hesitation, she opens the door to the basement, taking the steps deliberately and carefully. He's next a new piece of carpentry, a creation he had began after she had dismantled the Kelly.

Knowing her part in the game, she kneels on the ground next to him, her head bowing in supplication as she waits for his first move. He walks around her, picking up her pigtail as he shifts closer, the third shiver races down her spine when the hair falls back in place, tickling her skin.

He's behind her, no longer moving, and she can feel the heat of him radiating into her. The ties binding her hair are released, and the silky mass falls around her face and shoulders. A soft fabric lowers over her eyes and is secured tightly. His hands trail up her arms, and she stifles the gasp the fourth shiver creates.

Following his touch, she stands with his help, though he releases his hands once she's found her footing. She's left alone, no sight, no touch, and no sound from the sniper trained to make as little sound as possible. With her remaining senses, she hears his low growl and the sound of clothes falling to the ground. Her breath drags in quickly as the fifth shiver invades her.

She knows what's coming. Their games always run the same path, even if the rules change. "Don't move or touch until I tell you. Don't speak until I tell you. If I ask you a question, answer it, but that is all. And, Abby, do not come until I give you permission. Do you understand?" come the demands.

"Yes, sir." Her answer is steady, even as her pulse races.

"That's my girl," is his response, and she has to fight the smile that is her natural reaction.

Suddenly, she feels his touch at the buttons of her blouse, the backs of his fingers running over her skin, the shivers too numerous to count radiating from the contact. He undresses her quickly, efficiently, ever the Marine. The night air of the basement sweeps over her in cool waves as more skin is revealed.

Finally, she stands naked, her body stripped bare. She was his completely, no pretenses, no hesitations. He moves away from her then, her body bereft from his heat. Straining to hear any movement, the wait becomes almost unbearable. But before the temptation to break the rules overcomes her, she feels his callused fingers graze over her shoulders and down her arms.

The texture of his hands sends her trembling when they move towards her chest. Roughened skin catches on her nipples as his fingers pull and twist. She pulls her lower lip into mouth and bites down, trying to silence the moans that threaten to escape.

From behind, he presses against her, his own naked body searing along the length of hers. His mouth comes down on her shoulder, teeth and tongue teasing and distracting. Diverted from his hands by the feel of his heat and his mouth, a gasp of surprise bursts from her lips when the heal of his hand presses against her hot core, and he responds to her disobedience by biting down on her shoulder.

No longer able to hold up her head, she lets it fall back against his shoulder, and he allows that one, small defiance. Her hands itch to touch him, her concentration shatters, unable to choose where to focus. But like their games before, he takes the decision from her and presses a finger inside, eliciting a moan from them both. Slowly, he enters her, moving into her welcoming heat.

And then she is empty, cold. Her moans become whimpers from his removed touch, when he steps away completely. She fights her reaction to protest and struggles to keep still. The shivers from being left incomplete weaken her knees. But shivers are what he silently demands from her; shivers of anticipation, shivers of denial, and in the end, shivers of completion.

As quickly as he moved away, he returns, this time in front of her. His mouth teases the corner of hers, and her lips part in anticipation. When his tongue flicks out to taste, his hand returns to plunge inside of her. At this new onslaught, her knees finally give out, and he catches her.

His hand is at the small of her back, his mouth moving to her ear. He growls once again. "Do you shiver for me, Abby-girl?"

She nods, the only thing she can do.

"Answer me. Are you mine?"

"Yes, sir. Always yours."

She can feel his smile against her cheek. "Good girl."

Thrusting his pelvis into hers, he removes his hand, trailing it up her side to cup her skull. He walks them back so that she is pressed between him and the wall as he issues another order. "Wrap your legs around me." With his help, she does; his hard length pressing at her entrance.

Another shiver from her, a curse from him, and he gives her permission to touch, to speak. As her hands come up to grab a hold of him, he thrusts deep inside, and she cries out at the feel of his invasion. She is filled completely, stretched totally, and she cannot stop the moans and screams that pervade the space surrounding them.

Hard and fast, he plunges into her, taking and giving satisfaction. Nails bite into his flesh, but he doesn't care. It only serves to push them both on to the end. Finally, before the rush to climax can overcome even his control, he gives his final order as he rips off the blindfold.

"Now, Abby! Now!"

His cry sends her over that final edge, and she screams his name, the shivers darkening her vision. Her vision narrows to just his violent blue eyes, and she rides wave after wave, clutching to him, needing to ensure he does not pull away again.

As the two start to come down from their bodies' climax, they both gasp for air as their bodies cool. Quickly, he pulls her along, intent on getting them into bed before the sweat has dried from their skin. As he pulls her into an intimate embrance under the crisp sheets, a final shiver of pleasure rolls over their skin.


	6. Picnic

Lifting the pack higher on his shoulder, Gibbs grunted. "What have you got in this thing, Abbs?"

A few feet in front of him, the girl in question was dancing up the trail, headed for a destination only she knew. He watched as she paused to look at some flowers that glittered along the edge of the path before she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, Gibbs. Just have some patience. You promised to try and have fun today." With a twinkle in her vibrant green eyes, Abby turned back up the trail.

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs followed her lead, watching the dappled sun play in her black curls. She had worn her hair down for this adventure, letting the summer breeze pick up the heavy curtain. If the weather hadn't been so perfect, if Abby's eyes hadn't danced so attractively at the possibility of dragging him on this journey, he probably would have been able to resist. But he was loath to stay in doors when a break in the summer storms had given them this chance.

So, here he was, trailing behind the woman who had upended his normally calm and boring life, shouldering a backpack he refused to let her carry, heading for an unknown place, just to please her. He'd call himself all kinds of fool if she hadn't been worth it.

Quickly enough, they broke through the trees to a small meadow, sunny and clear from the recent rains. Thankfully, the sun's rays had dried up the ground, and he watched as Abby spread out the blanket she had brought along.

Before he could protest, she had taken the pack from him and was slowly assembling the picnic lunch she had secretly put together. All the traditional picnic items were presented: chicken, potato salad, strawberries, and some sort of dessert, he assumed. But what made it even special was the container of hot coffee and one of cold Caf-Pow! that she pulled out and placed alongside of the food. Only his girl would remember the touches that made their time together uniquely their own.

Once she was done, Abby held out her hand for him, and Gibbs let her pull him down so that he was laid out next to her. He was about to tell her how much it meant to him, to have someone who cared enough about him to carve out moments like this one. But he didn't get the chance.

Leaning over, she pressed a ripe strawberry to his lips. He opened his mouth to let the fruit slide inside. As he bit down on the juicy fruit, he could feel liquid gathering along his mouth. Abby leaned in and licked the juice up before replacing the strawberry with her own lips.

The food would wait.


	7. Dancing Flames

Most evenings in the still of winter found them snuggled together, the snow peaking over the windowsill as if to watch the embracing couple. A crackling fire warmed the room the cosy room, though the two could generate more heat between them than the dancing flames.

Sometimes, she read the latest forensic journal, her arm snaked around his neck, playing with his silver hair. When there was nothing new to read, she would stare into the flames, drowsily content to just be in his arms.

His arm wrapped around her as the shadows shifted around them, fingers teasing her black hair. On those occasions where she would be reading, he liked to think of ways to distract her from her research. He was unusually devious then, murmuring heated words, teeth and tongue caressing the side of her neck. Her concentration never lasted long, and she would turn in his arms, her own ideas of distraction leading them to the floor in front of the fire.


	8. Tell Me

"No, no, no, no, no!" she screamed, charging around the barrier. "I'm not going to let you take me. There's nothing you can do, nothing you can say that will make me give in. I won't let you. I won't let you win!"

This would be a fight to the finish, a fight to the death of sorts. And Abby couldn't let him win. If he did, if he got too close, he would drag the secret from her, and she wouldn't let him win.

She dodged around an end table, jumping over another piece of furniture, before making a charge up the stairs. Behind her, Abby could hear him running, could practically feel him breathing on the back of her neck. She wasn't going to make it. But she had to, she had to try.

With a final burst of speed, she made it to the bedroom door. Only, she wasn't fast enough. As she slammed through the door, she heard a pause as the man chasing her dove to take her down. They slammed together on the bed, and she started to shout.

"Stop!" she screamed, thrashing around under the weight of the man who topped her. No matter how much she shoved and twisted, she couldn't dislodge him. Arching under his touch, she screeched again.

"Stop. I can't take anymore." Tears leaked from between her pinched eyelids.

"Tell me!" he growled, his fingers unrelenting in their attack. "Tell me your secrets." He slapped her hands away as she tried to stop his assault. "Tell me what I want to know, Abby."

"Never," she cried. She put up a valiant effort against him, but she had to know she would lose in the end.

Seeing a break in her defenses, he doubled his attack against her flesh until he broke her.

"Uncle. Uncle!" she groaned out. "I give up! You win!"

Sitting back on his haunches, he looked down on his conquered hostage. "Now…tell me what I want to know."

Gasping from the assault, she opened her eyes and glared at him. "You're a cheat, Special Agent Gibbs. Tickling me to get your way. Not fair."

An uncharacteristic smile spread across his mouth as he nodded. "You're right. I don't play fair. Now tell me."

She gave him an answering smile. "I'd rather show you." Reaching up, she pulled him down and met his lips with her own.


End file.
